


Wouldn't it be nice, if we

by ravelqueen



Category: Subarashiki Kono Sekai | The World Ends With You
Genre: Angst, Angst and Humor, Implied Kiryu "Joshua" Yoshiya/Sakuraba Neku, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Joshua being an asshat as expected, M/M, Not-a-child Joshua, Power Play, Sanae makes all the bad life choices, Top Joshua, because Josh is a dick and likes to push Sanae's buttons, save yourself Neku, well humour as long as you enjoy puns and Joshua's brand of humour anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2018-04-25 08:10:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4952908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravelqueen/pseuds/ravelqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“Do you think I'm stupid?” Joshua asks, seemingly unaffected. His tone is at odds with his body language, like a snake about to strike. “Do you think I'm trying to throw this game?”</i><br/><i>The way his heart leaps tells him, that yes, for a second, a stupid useless second, he'd </i>hoped<br/><i>“Oh, Sanae,” Joshua chuckles, “Have you ever known me to do something silly like that?”</i></p><p>Joshua is like an addiction Sanae can't shake and it's probably already destroyed them both.</p><p>set vaguely mid-week 2</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wouldn't it be nice, if we

**Author's Note:**

  * For [oxfordRoulette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oxfordRoulette/gifts).



> So this was written for oxfordRoulette as part of my 'shame on me' Yuletide New Years resolution. One year later! I hope you can still enjoy it! They asked for a "mature" canon-compliance romance with the train wreck that is Sanae/Joshua and um I hope you like angst? and the depressing feeling of a hopeless romance? Because that's sure what you are getting (though also porn! so there is that.)
> 
> Special thanks goes to my dear beta Mali who had to listen to me whine about this story for about a month and encouraged me by cracking up at my interpretation of Joshua, as well as saving about 10% of this fics contractions _and_ helping me with the title. You are a champ!

“Just go to hell, Joshua!” Neku shouts in frustration, slamming the door of the café behind him. Sanae just barely manages to catch the cup of coffee that Neku left behind before it falls to the floor.

“You sure this is how you want to play this with him, boss?” he sighs. The way Joshua looks like a mix of intrigued and satisfied tells him that he shouldn't even ask - it's obvious.

“Well, whatever do you mean, _Mr. H?_ “ Joshua says, mockingly fluttering his lashes, “I think mine and dear, dear Neku's relationship is going _splendidly._ ”

“The only reason he doesn't strangle you is because he isn't sure if he could stop.” Sanae says. He knows it's useless, knows this look on Josh's face, the one that means he's found something interesting to play with and he's not letting go.

“And he knows he wouldn't make it far without his partner, so the only thing that will happen is more delightful scenes like this one.” Joshua giggles. “It's ever so nice of you to have done so much to impress upon him, how simply invaluable a partner is,” he adds, a twinkle in his eyes.

It sends a stab of _something_ through Sanae, because it's been such a long time since he's last seen Josh so interested in something, so _alive_ , so _happy._

“Don't you need to go after him before he gets attacked by noise then? Seeing as how you're his invaluable _partner_ and all,“ Sanae says, can't help the sneer, because it was important that Neku understood, no way he would have survived the game otherwise. He knows what happens if he wins - he just couldn't let the kid be snuffed out without him putting up a fight, a quick casualty, a butterfly ripped apart by the careless cruelty of a child.

He feels bad for him, because being the focus of Joshua's interest has never meant anything good for the person involved, but it's just been so long. It aches in him, because it wasn't _him_ , nothing he'd done to bring back the sparkle to Joshua's eyes, and he questions, if it's not enough. He's already gone too far, can never go back, but maybe if he stops it now, if Joshua can find the reason to keep on going, to not get swallowed up by the endless repetition, not just give in to his boredom and inertia, maybe...

Suddenly Joshua is right there in his face, looking at him with blank eyes until he starts smiling again, the endless, empty one, and Sanae's heart _falls._

“Well, well, _well_ , Sanae - and I was just wondering why you were being so quiet. You _like_ our dear Neku quite a bit, don't you?" Joshua says, waving a hand. He's not wrong, but he's not right either. “There - I ended the game today, lovely Neku will be quite safe, while I'm here enjoying your company.” he leans on the counter, the smile on his face looking lovely, sincere, if you don't know better. Sanae does.

Sanae might be the only person alive who remembers what this face looked like with a true smile of joy on his face. It twists his heart again, thinking about what is lost, what he might have destroyed, what he is destroying _right now_ , doing what he does with Minamimoto.

Something must show on his face because Joshua's smile gets wider, more empty. “Oh dear, you _are_ worried about Neku. Thinking of everything that could happen to him. Thinking of him all alone.” He's fishing, trying to figure out what is bothering Sanae, trying to get the upper hand. “Thinking of all the things I can _do_ to him.” He's hitting in the dark, but this one has enough truth to it, enough that he can use to distract him.

“I know exactly what you're doing to him.” And it comes out...too sharp, so maybe it's been actually bothering him. Joshua's face lights up, delighted to have found what hurts so he can keep pressing on it. It's not Sanae's actual worry, but he has always been safe in that regard, worrying over Joshua: That anybody would care about him enough to _be_ worried would never figure into Joshua's calculations, after all.

He's not wrong to be pissed about Neku, though, and he can't stop - not now, he needs to make sure Joshua _believes_ this is where Sanae's thoughts are and not with this unstoppable ache about who he used to be, who he is, about who Sanae is betraying, even though –

And he _does_ like Neku, not even only for the potential of who he could be, of the bright light that makes his fingers twitch with the need to _create._ “You're killing him.”

Joshua titters in delight “Now, don't you think that's a _tad_ dramatic-”

“God damn it, Joshua, people, especially people playing the game, aren't made to be around you and you know it.” He's slammed his hands down on the counter so loud the sound still echoes through his empty café. “What the _fuck_ are you thinking? Do you _want_ to erase the kid?”

Because it doesn't make sense that he should, Neku being his game piece. Joshua should be trying to preserve him as long as possible, as long as he still has a part to play and Sanae knows Joshua is too clever to actually jeopardize it, so what is he _doing_  here?

When he saw Neku walk in at the start of the week, trailed by this ghost of the past, of who Joshua was when Sanae met him, he froze, mind blank, hoping for one wild moment that this was a removed cousin, a descendant, a freak _doppelganger_ \- anything but Joshua running around in a weak body, leaking power like a _sieve_.

“Do you think I'm stupid?” Joshua asks, seemingly unaffected. His tone is at odds with his body language, like a snake about to strike. “Do you think I'm trying to throw this game?”

The way his heart leaps tells him, that yes, for a second, a stupid useless second, he'd _hoped_ -

“Oh, Sanae,” Joshua chuckles, “Have you _ever_ known me to do something silly like that?” And it sounds innocent, nice, as if this game didn't have the whole of Shibuya, vibrant, alive, chaotic Shibuya on the line.

Joshua sits down on a sofa that hadn't been there before, beckons Sanae over, drawing characters into the condensation of a glass he now holds in his hands. “But I am surprised, really - you normally don't get attached quite so easily.”

Sanae decides to ignore him for now, cleaning up his counter, throwing away the remnants of coffee, not looking at Joshua.

“I guess it's all those artful compliments,” Joshua muses, “' _Oh Mr. H, your art is so cool, and, uh, so_ _ **cool**_ _, y'know?'_ Must be quite the ego stroke for our dear old CAT.”

Sanae holds in the snort, because as mean as Joshua's little impression is, it's accurate. “Yeah thanks for spilling that secret, by the way.”

“ _Moi?_ ” Joshua says, all affected outrage. The snort escapes, and damn it, he's angry, he shouldn't be this easy to play, to mollify, as if he's a sulking child.

Joshua hums with satisfaction, “He's quite something, my Neku, isn't he? So very _pure._ Quite deliciously so.” He purrs it, looking for a reaction Sanae refuses to give him. Joshua must have seen something regardless, his next words freezing Sanae.

“Oh dear, if I'd known that was what you were into, I wouldn't have waited fifteen years to fuck you,” he says with a breathy giggle.

The glass Sanae is holding crashes to the ground.

He whirls around, opens his mouth, but no sound comes out, because the look on Joshua's face is familiar, so familiar, hours, _days, years,_ spent doing nothing but looking at this expression, floating in the delicious agony of the forbidden, of being _denied,_ but it's wrong, wrong, wrong, this face on this body of the child that had stumbled into his shop, all fear and bravado and _hunger_ all those years ago.

It makes his skin crawl, makes him want to run, to hit something, and Joshua must see his discomfort, because he sprawls, spreading his legs, widening his eyes, laying a hand over his crotch.

“I'm _hurting,”_ he breathes, writhing artlessly, “I don't know what to do, can't you _help_ me, please?” Voice higher, biting his lip, trying to affect an innocence he's not possessed for decades.

“Stop it,” Sanae says, turning his back, sickened.

“Is that how you'd have wanted me, back then? All confusion and quivering breaths?” Joshua is suddenly right behind him now, whispering in his ear, holding him tight, using much more power than he should be able to in his limited state.

“No, fucking stop this shit, Joshua.” He's trying to break the grip, but he doesn't want to hurt Joshua, doesn't want to use his powers against him. _What a fucking joke, Sanae - what about the taboo noise, you think that's_ not _gonna hurt him -_ He cuts off that thought, struggles harder.

“Is that how you'd like Neku, if he came to you?” Joshua continues, voice cutting at first, then suddenly changing, affecting a rougher cadence, “Oh, _please_ , Mr. H- no, _CAT_ ,” he says in that affectation of Neku's voice, mimicking the quiver, the barely contained excitement that's been there ever since he found out about Sanae's alter ego. "I just, I admire you _so much._ Your art- _you_ are _amazing_. I- I'm just so _confused._ Can't you _teach_ me?Teach me _everything.”_

The bile is rising in his throat, revulsion strong enough that he can't help himself, using a burst of his powers to _fling_ Joshua across the room.

“Stop it!” he roars, and he can hear the thunder in his voice, the heavens resonating with his outrage, his fury and he needs to stop this, he _needs to stop this,_ Above can't pay attention to him now or this game is up.

“I don't want to touch Phones, you sick _fuck_ , and I certainly don't want to touch _you_ , not while you look like that," he spits out, barely keeping himself from rubbing his arms to get rid of the wrongness.

He doesn't, he never did, didn't even think of Joshua that way - until one day, while they were half planning the next Game, half just hanging out, Producer and Composer, Sanae more comfortable with him than with any of the previous Composers, definitely more comfortable than with other Producers. Joshua had leaned over and kissed him, pressed him into that horrific couch in his pad, shushing his protests with assurances that no-one would need to know and _can't we, Sanae?_

He knew it was wrong, blurring the lines between what their relationship should be, handing Joshua a weapon. But he didn't use it, didn't use it for years, decades, just continued being himself, sarcastic, cynical, _brilliant_ Joshua, shining brighter than anyone, making Shibuya brighter than anything, and Sanae had been so smug, so fucking stupidly pleased with finding this perfect Composer candidate.

With getting away with so much that he hadn't stopped to look, stopped to realise how fewer new ideas Joshua was providing for the Game, had stupidly thought that just because he spoke with Sanae less about the Game didn't mean he didn't speak about it at all, thought the desperation Joshua fucked him with was because of _him_ and not because he was trying to find anything to be desperate _about_.

And now it turns out the one thing Sanae had convinced himself Joshua wouldn't use as a weapon, wouldn't use as another game piece, he'd just been saving up for the right moment, an ace up his sleeve and it _burns._

The thought of the Taboo Noise, of the way he's betraying Joshua right now, sends a vicious stab of satisfaction through him, lets him feel for one second nothing but _triumph_ by knowing that for once he might be winning. It's gone in a flash, this sick feeling, he knows what he's doing is wrong, there is a reason it's a Taboo. He can feel the way it's rotting right through his core every day.

Getting involved with his Composer has been stupid in so many ways, not in the least because the way he's trying to save Shibuya has an after taste of getting back at Joshua for deserting him, for Sanae not being enough to keep him happy. Sanae had never seen himself as that petty, but clearly he never actually knew himself at all.

Joshua is still on the floor, the sofa now vanished, Joshua clearly not wanting to put in the effort. He's looking down, thankfully missing whatever stupid, self-pitying thing is showing on Sanae's face.

Sanae is panting slightly, trying to think of a way to kick Joshua out, so he can lick his numerous wounds in peace, feeling exhausted with everything, sick at himself, the thought that his petty, small feelings of inadequacy might have been enough to possibly damn himself forever, when Joshua suddenly lets out the smallest chuckle, the one that is true, because it's even more bitter than the coffee Sanae makes.

“ _'Not while you look like that_ ', is it?” he repeats, finally looking at Sanae. The lost look on his face sends another stab through Sanae, “Meaning that otherwise you _do_? Want to touch me, I mean?”

It's artless in a way Neku would probably refuse to believe Joshua is even capable of and it makes Sanae's resistance crumble, because at the end of the day he's weak, has proven so over and over.

“Not while you look like that,” he echoes, because it's the only thing he can say. He watches as from one blink to the next the Joshua-that-was, the face that once came into his shop daily, that lit up from finally knowing for sure that he wasn't alone, wasn't crazy, transforms into the face he's grown used to, the face Joshua had at one point declared as 'perfect' and kept, the one that whispers filthy things in his ears, that used to inspire, to love, to _create._

And it hurts, in a way he can't describe, that one flash of insecurity even though it's gone so fast he could convince him it was never there to begin with. It wrenches that the smile he wears now looks so close to how it used to look, but it's empty, empty, empty, and Sanae had just been too blind to see it.

“I'm only asking,” Joshua says picking himself up from the floor, sauntering over, again confident as ever, “Because I wouldn't want to presume. I know how highly you value _morals,_ after all.” The way he stresses that word makes Sanae freeze, wondering if Joshua _knows_ , but then he calms himself, because if he did, he wouldn't be here, would be making sure Sanae couldn't interfere at all.

“The only thing you've ever _done_ is presume,” he fires back, trying to create some levity, to replicate the easy rapport they used to have. It falls flat out of his mouth, too confrontational, creating the tiniest pause in Joshua's fluid saunter. Too honest. He used to be good at this.

“Mmhmm, I guess I have,” Joshua says. He seems to have regained his equilibrium, not too bothered by Sanae's inability to stick to their established script. _But then, what do I know, really, about what Joshua thinks_. The bitterness of the thought startles him, spurs him into closing the last centimetres himself, closing his arms around Joshua.

He continually surprises himself with how pathetic he is. He just hopes that nobody will ever find out that apparently the Angel Who Fell didn't do it to save his District, but instead was just a spurned lover, like hundreds before him, just with bigger guns.

Joshua cards through his hair, taking off Sanae's glasses and setting them on the counter. His chuckle is threaded through with warmth and it sends a shiver down his spine, because he guesses Joshua had a point, being unsure about his welcome – it has been weeks since they touched, even innocently.

“Does that mean you aren't angry anymore?” Joshua asks dispassionately.

“I'm still angry.” Because he is, he's _livid_ , wants to rail at the heavens, wants to shake Joshua until he regains his sense, until he stops this madness. But he's done this, this and more and it didn't help, nothing he did made a difference, it didn't touch Joshua in his self-imposed shell of indifference and boredom. “But I don't want to have this conversation again.”

Joshua hums, still stroking his hair, as if he doesn't care one way or another, but is pleased that Sanae isn't being unreasonable again.

“So what do you want?” Joshua asks him. There are a thousand answers, but most of them are impossible – _I want you to stop this game before it destroys us all (too late for that, he can feel his wings blackening, the corruption creeping in, the way Neku's Soul is creaking under the strain, probably has been too late for Joshua for years)–_ or useless – _please smile as if the world is still beautiful_ – or beyond pathetic – _can't I be enough?_

“I want you to fuck me.” Because this, at least, he can still have. What's one more sin, against the mountain he's already accumulated.

“Like you mean it.” What's one more day of lying to himself, because thinking that he knew and just didn't want to realise is easier to accept than having been fooled completely.

“Like it's the only thing you want.” Because sometimes having the dream is enough. Because he wants to believe he's doing this, betraying this man not just because of who he's become, but for the memory of who he used to be, of who Sanae has to believe is still inside of him.

Joshua's hand grips his head, holding him tight, a quiver going through his whole body and for one bright moment, Sanae thinks he'll refuse.

But then the tension goes out of him, he becomes pliant, moulding himself to Sanae's body in way that had been his downfall from the beginning.

 “I can do that.” His voice is slightly hoarse, and with this new-found determination to fuck everything and live in the moment, Sanae lets himself believe it's because this is also what Joshua wants.

They don't move for what feels like hours and Sanae has just convinced himself to make a joke about how this isn't fucking like he remembers, that maybe Joshua is out of practice, desperately trying to break the tension while also not wanting to at all, when Joshua fluidly presses their lips together.

They've kissed countless times, fluttery, shy, passionately, all teeth and tongues, absent minded good-bye and hello kisses. This one is desperate in a way he's never felt and it's right, just right and Sanae is suddenly right there, in the moment, because he's starved, he's starving for this man, this human, as if he can make him _look_ , if he just kisses him long enough.

His knees bump into a bed, both of them in Joshua's apartment between one step and the next and he falls, pulling Joshua with him, trying to get him closer.

Both of them could vanish the clothes they are wearing with ease, but he doesn't want to, and in this, at least, Joshua and he seem to be in sync, tearing at clothes, trying to reach skin, as if they were just human.

Joshua gets his vest off him and tears his mouth away to pull his shirt over his head, Sanae shedding his own. There's so much skin. He's nearly forgotten how Joshua really looked like, being confronted with his fifteen-year old appearance making him dizzy, as if time had turned back. But seeing him, touching him, brings it back, the perfect grooves between his collar bones, the way one of his nipples is a shade darker than the other one. He touches them in succession, because it might be the last-

He yanks Joshua down, interrupting his smug contemplation of Sanae's body to cut off that thought. Tonight is about the moment, about the right now, not about the inevitability of the little self-aggrandizing tragedy they are performing now, outside, in the real world.

“ _Someone's_ eager,” Joshua says against his lips and it relaxes Sanae, because this is normal, as long as he can keep Joshua talking like this, he can pretend this is one of their endless days-between-Weeks, where Sanae could come home from creating art to Joshua sprawling in the sun, teasing him about his _'quaint little game'._

_Really, working under an assumed name?_

_You know you're only moderate at subterfuge._

“I'd be more eager if you'd get rid of your pants." He pauses, considers. "...Are those girls clothes, by the way?”

“Oh yes, very good defence stats. Do _spectacular_  things to my ass,” Joshua says without a hint of shame, “The face dear Neku made when I came out wearing those...” he trails off, wicked smile on his face. It's such a natural expression, for once no hidden cynicism, just enjoyment of a game, playing with fire, inviting Sanae in on the joke, that he can't help but chuckle in response

"Quit teasing Phones like that - it's likely the poor kid's just discovered his hormones. You're probably giving him the mother of all awakenings." The trousers are on the floor and while they _did_ do very good things with Joshua's ass, it's nothing against feeling it in his hands.

Joshua groans when he squeezes, dropping his head to kiss his neck. “Though I think he might enjoy someone... _simple_ better. Perhaps with muscles. And a lot of stamina. Someone nice and non-challenging for baby's first foray into experimentation, wouldn't you say?”

“Are you trying to – _ngggg_ – set him up with someone? That's so unlike you,” Sanae says, tipping his head back.

“I'm hurt,” Joshua says with a smile in his voice. “I just want best for my dear Neku, he's always so _tense._ ” He punctuates the remark with a thrust of his hips, grinding against Sanae's cock just _so_.

“Can we stop talking about Phones now, please?” Sanae asks, pulling Joshua closer.

“ _Oh_? I don't know. Despite your ardent protests I'm still not a hundred percent convinced you wouldn't enjoy Neku in your bed.” Joshua clasps Sanae's hand - to take the sting out of the remark? Keep him from shoving at him in outrage? Impossible to tell.

“The way you're going on about it, seems like _you're_ the one who'd be into that,” he says.

“Well, I certainly wouldn't say no, if Neku wanted to ... _experiment_ further.” It's said so casually that for a second Sanae doesn't even absorb the meaning, just bares his neck to encourage Joshua to keep kissing it. When he does, his stomach drops.

He uses the slack Joshua gives him to roll them, pinning Joshua's arms. “Please, _please_ for all that is holy, tell me you aren't messing around with your _fifteen-year-old_ proxy. The boy that you shot dead, so he could become a pawn in your power play.”

“Define 'messing around',” Joshua says, fluttering his lashes.

“You _didn't_ ,” Sanae says, trying to convince himself, because surely _Neku_ at least must have better sense than that.

“I didn't fuck him, if that's what you are asking,” Joshua says finally, rolling his eyes thoughthe _not for lack of trying_ is hanging in the air. “So keep your pants on.” He smirks, then. "Actually," he says, "On second thought - don't."

Sanae groans. Thank god for Neku's restraint. Or good people sense. Or whatever it is that Sanae is clearly lacking.

“How are you _this_ lame?” he asks.

“Excuse you, I'm a master of wit and poise.” Joshua says, absent-mindedly pulling Sanae's pants and boxer down. “Ask anyone.”

And here Sanae could counter _well, nobody really to ask_ , but...just because for Joshua everything is a weapon doesn't mean it has to be for him. He might have fallen far, but he's not quite there yet, not quite able to view everything as useful as long as it's usable.

Something must have shown on his face, because Joshua caresses his face. “You're so nice, Sanae.” He smiles at him, but somehow it's also superior, not exactly only a a compliment coming from him. “You really are a good first crush to have. My sweet Neku is lucky.”

He's still smiling gently when the hand that was just now caressing him softly, grips his hair steel tight, pulling his head back, and forcing him to roll off of Joshua on the mattress if he doesn't want to lose half his hair.

“But I think I have had enough of talking about other people,” he says, as if this wasn't his own fault, as if he hadn't brought up Neku in the first place, “Before we start talking about, oh, I don't know-”

He seems to be thinking through numerous options, casual and non-threatening except for the smarting grip in his hair, except for how his other hand is cradling Sanae's balls, rolling them gently, all threat, “ _Sho-”_

Sanae stops breathing, heart hammering, because _does he know-_

“And I lose my mood,” Joshua finishes, smile impish, telling him nothing and _god damn it._

“Wouldn't want that,” Sanae croaks, his throat bared, breath coming sharp and fast because of the pain, the strain on his neck, the _adrenaline,_ all his focus on Joshua's face and the way he's now slowly rolling his balls between his fingers, pressure not increasing at all, but it could, it _could,_ and it ratchets up the tension second by second.

Joshua smile stretches wider. “Indeed we wouldn't,” he says, a wicked glint in his eyes, the hand around his balls tightening ever so, and Sanae closes his eyes, preparing for the burst of pain, waiting, waiting, _straining_ , maybe closing his eyes is worse, not knowing when the hand cradling him will close like a _vice-_

And suddenly both hands are gone, in the same moment a feather light kiss is left on his nose.

“You're so silly, Sanae,” Joshua chuckles, rising from the bed, losing his boxers and rummaging in the adjoining bathroom.

Sanae stays on the bed, just breathing, trying to convince his heart to calm down, trying to convince his brain the threat is gone, but the truth is, the threat is right there, right over there, his hind-brain not convinced the predator has gone because he _hasn't_.

He wishes these interludes of mind numbing terror that are nearly always accompanying interactions with Joshua would kill his boner. Or at the very least not make him more turned on. He wishes he could remember if he'd always been such a freak, or if Joshua brings it out in him.

Joshua finally comes back to the bedroom, lube in one hand, angelic smile again fixed on his face, as if nothing happened. And the worst part of all of this is, nothing really happened, Joshua didn't hurt him, it was all in his head, just threat and smile and no actions at all, Joshua never hurts him unless he asks, unless he _begs_ -

“And oh how pretty you do beg,” Joshua interrupts.

“Fuck you Joshua,” he says over the panic, because shit, Joshua still can read his mind, even with the limitations, what _else_ does he know, he _must_ know, but why is he _here-_

“Oh, _relax_ , Sanae, you were thinking it so loudly it would've been hard _not_ to hear you,” Joshua says, all lazy syllables, now on the bed, putting down the lube to cup Sanae's face in his hands, “And even if I couldn't read your mind, your face was being obvious enough.”

Sanae doesn't know if he believes him, because it's always been so hard to tell, even before years of being the Composer have made him an expert at weaving lies. He remembers the first years when Joshua was supposed to just come into his powers and Sanae over confidently didn't guard his thoughts until Joshua plopped down in front of him one day and said ' _an Angel, Sanae? Really? Isn't that just_ _**terribly** _ _gauche?'_

“Now,” Joshua says, bringing him back into the present, “I believe I promised you something.”

“Sure did." Sanae is relieved, spreading his legs so Joshua can settle between them, because he needs to get out of his _head_ , tonight is about the _moment,_ even if his mind doesn't seem to want to get with the fucking program.

Joshua just hums, settling in, braced on his arm and goes back to lazily kissing his neck. Sanae wraps his arms around Joshua and just enjoys the tenderness, the closeness, caresses long strokes down Joshua's back, getting lost in the feel of all that skin under his fingers.

His lazy contentment is interrupted by a sharp bite, jolting him, though he can't move too much with Joshua draped over him the way he is.

“Pay attention,” Joshua admonishes and before Sanae can reply that he _was,_ thank you very much, he's sat back on his knees and murmurs, “Headboard.”

Part of Sanae is embarrassed at how fast his hands curl around the iron curls of the headboard, but he's too preoccupied by the way arousal shoots through him at that soft command, his cock going from half-mast to hard again in a way that makes him dizzy to care too much.

“Good.” Joshua says, satisfaction evident in the smug curl of his smile, getting the lube to put some on his fingers and it's mortifying, the way that makes him feel, the way this human, this creature aeons younger than him, has him trained to react to this with a visceral flash of arousal and _pride_ at having done _good_. Jesus - he really _is_ a trained lap-dog, isn't he?

“Now, now, Sanae, don't be that way,” Joshua chuckles, presumably at whatever his face is doing. His eyes are roaming over his body stopping at his nipples, his mouth, his stomach taut because of his position, his biceps tensing with the need to _let go_ to not let Joshua do this to him again, but he can't make himself, not with how smugly _happy_ Joshua is at him vulnerable, laid out for him. Not with Joshua's pupils dilating, his cock filling, finally paying attention to Sanae and _nothing_ else.

“I'd say pouting doesn't become you, but I'd be lying. Anyway, there's no shame in being _pliant._ ” There are two lubed fingers now circling his entrance, but Sanae can barely pay attention to it, or the other hand gently spreading his legs farther apart, not when Joshua looks so turned on by him, by his willing surrender.

This, _this,_ is how Joshua always gets him, got him trained, got him to beg and obey, in bed if nowhere else, because there is nothing more addicting than knowing he does this to Joshua, keeps his attention, makes him hard with nothing but his body. Who needs pride, when he can have this, Joshua's finger teasing him as much as he's teasing himself, eyes now scorching, making Sanae shiver

Finally, finally he breaks the tension, looks away, looks to where Sanae is clenching and unclenching, enters him slowly, carefully and the breath gets punched out of him, because it's been so long, he's forgotten, two fingers too much and not enough at once, he can only moan quietly and clench his hands into where they still hold onto the headboard, because even knowing he shouldn't want this can't make him _disobey,_ not when it gets him this, slow somehow worse than if he'd shoved them in all at once.

Joshua is quiet while he works in his fingers, thrusting them into Sanae slowly to loosen him up. This has always been the only time Joshua is ever quiet when they have sex, and this time, like every time, Sanae wonders why, can't get the breath and concentration to ask, tells himself he'll ask later but then never will, because in the light of day it never seems as important as now, in the moment, panting, looking up at Joshua looking down in full concentration where he's slowly but surely opening Sanae up for him.

Sanae settles, closes his eyes, relaxes back into the sensation, arousal there but somehow in the background the one point connecting them, spreading out into his body. It's a bit lonely,but it's also a relief to know that he can just feel this, the way his body opens up, the way it hurts, but doesn't, without having to second guess what Joshua can read in his face, in his mind.

He's relaxed, half in a doze, when Joshua says mockingly, “Am I boring you, Sanae?”

He looks down where Joshua is finally taking his fingers out, half bent over his lap. He's beautiful like this, the half light giving his face a glow, making his eyes seem ethereal and dangerous at once.

He raises an eyebrow. “Maybe.”

Joshua chuckles at that, crawling up his body, looming over him, but not touching, just encroaching on his space, until he's the only thing Sanae can see. “Oh dear. Since when have you stopped being a fan of foreplay?”

“Since my arms started to hurt like this?” Sanae fires back, before he notices his mistake, too mellow, too relaxed to guard himself.

Joshua's face lights up in delight. “Well, my darling, nobody is _forcing_ you,” he croons, lowering himself slightly onto his forearms, his fingertips _just_ not brushing Sanae's arms, his lips, _just_ not touching Sanae's, a shiver of non-sensation.

“You could just _let go_ ,” Joshua continues in a whisper, hair now brushing Sanae's forehead, threatening and mocking at once, “You could grab me _right now_ , force me over, hold me down and _take_ what you want.”

The shivers have taken over his whole body, he's panting, can't stop and he needs to speak, he _should_ say something cutting or dismissive, but his voice doesn't want to obey.

“But you won't do that, will you?” Joshua says, balancing on one arm to brush an errant strand of hair out of Sanae's face.

“Do what?” He's found his voice, but maybe it should have stayed gone, reedy, pathetic thing it is, croaky, full of need, full of fear.

“Take what you want.” He sounds almost sad, almost contemplative, and there's something behind it, something more, but before he can explore it, Joshua finally settles on him, the sudden full body contact like a hammer, forcing out all other thought aside from _skin_ and _sensation_ and _now._

It's as if all the arousal that was banked, simmering, rushes back in at once and suddenly he's desperate, arching up into Joshua, moaning, frantic with it, frantic with the need for Joshua to take him, to _fuck_ him, to take him out of his head, at least for a bit.

He's writhing, clutching the headboard, he can hear the metal creaking, but Joshua isn't _doing_ anything, isn't moving, isn't kissing him, seems to mostly be amused by the franticness of his response.

“ _Do it,”_ he growls out at last, because he knows this game, knows that this is what Joshua enjoys the most, the moment of control, because it's true - Sanae doesn't take, doesn't even know how at the moment, he just _wants._

“Whatever do you mean?” Joshua says innocently, only betrayed by his cock hard against Sanae's stomach, by the way he can't seem to stop himself touching Sanae's arms where they are straining, gaze drawn back to it over and over again.

 _Damn it,_ Joshua, you told me you'd give me what I need, just _fuck_ me,” Sanae curses, he wants to let go of the headboard, wants to grab Joshua by the hair and kiss him, to flip him over and ride him, but his hands curl even tighter instead.

“Did I say that?” He groans at the artless way he says it, almost dismissive, as if he'd forgotten to pick up the milk when he should've, only belied by the smirk on his face. Sanae knows what's coming, dreads it, hates it, can't help anticipating the way Joshua breathes, “Nice boys say please,” into his ear, the way he grinds his erection into Joshua.

“ _Please_ ,” he says, knows he'll say it more later, knows he could have spared himself frustration if he'd just begged for it in the first place, spread and begged for Joshua's cock, he would have, not a matter of pride for him, even if he believed he still had pride to lose

But that's not what Joshua wants, he wants the surrender, yes, but mostly he also wants Sanae to _hate_ it. Sanae does a little, but not as much as he likes what it gets him, Joshua's near inaudible moan next to his ear, the way his hips move just the tiniest bit out of his control, the way Joshua _looks_ lit up with triumph.

So he'll glare hotly, he'll sound as if every plea is dragged out of him against his will, because that's what Joshua expects, Joshua, for who every surrender, every weakness in himself is a small death.

“Well, since you asked so nicely," Joshua says, scooting back. He gets his arms underneath Sanae's thighs and spreads them, so he can settle better looking down at Sanae's body, smiling with what could be happiness if Sanae let himself believe it.

“You're very pretty like this Sanae, all spread out for me,” he says, running a proprietary hand down Sanae's body, just bypassing his cock to pump his own, covering it in lube, while he drinks in the sight of Sanae laid out for him.

“Yeah, I'm a real prize, but can we get with it?" his voice sounds almost normal again, Joshua far enough away to make him recover some of his equilibrium.

Joshua chuckles.“So very eager. Has it really been that long?” He doesn't expect an answer, since he he lines himself up and starts pushing into Sanae slowly, making him feel every centimetre, holding his legs again. It kills Sanae's leverage, so he's just panting, feeling how full it is, the ache he could vanish away, but doesn't, the bright flashes of pain proving he's _here._

They're both panting when Joshua is finally fully inside, now draped over him, absently kissing Sanae's nipples while he gets used to it.

“Ready?” Joshua asks and there is something dark, something ugly and feral in his voice. Sanae nods, and loses his breath in a shout when Joshua pulls out and slams into him at the same time he bites viciously into the nipple he'd just been teasing.

Sanae can't recover his breath, Joshua fucking into him in strong, hard strokes, littering his body with bites, as if he'd been the one deprived, his hands everywhere, gripping his sides, pulling the legs Sanae has wrapped around his waist higher, caressing where his hands are now using the headboard to brace himself.

For a while the only sounds are the slap of skin, Joshua's quiet moans, Sanae panting, moaning, whining when Joshua fucks him just _so_.

“ _Please_ ," he gets out, “my hands, can I, _please-”_ The sob is real now, because Joshua hasn't kissed him, he hasn't kissed Joshua, he needs to touch, he needs to -

“Why?” Joshua asks in a growl, his voice low, all the sweet cultured edges stripped away and Sanae _glories_ in it, the way he can make Joshua lose that carefully crafted control, the way he knows he's scored a point in their everlasting game.

He rides on that high, smiles, it makes him reckless enough to say, “I need to touch you, feel it's _you_ -” before he cuts himself off, Joshua looking devastated, _gutted_ , for a split second, before the mask is back, control restored, the superior smirk full in play as he says, genially, “I _do_ enjoy the adoration.” and god _damn_ it, Sanae and his big mouth.

He's got his permission now, though, and he uses it to drag himself upright, to that smirking mouth, fingers stiff and arms aching, to kiss him deep, clutching Joshua to him.

He doesn't even know why, but it's desperate, grasping, holding too tight, and he must surprise Joshua too, because his rhythm stutters, stops, and suddenly he's clutching Sanae back, a desperation in his kiss that wasn't there before, hasn't been there for months, even when they were still falling into bed together.

They break apart, Sanae in Joshua's lap, hands framing each others faces, looking into each others eyes.

“Why are you crying, Sanae?” He is, he realizes, silent tears that Joshua is kissing away, but it's a rhetorical question they both know the answer to. Sanae is just pathetic, he knew this wouldn't help, that this wouldn't change anything, both of them still in the same spot, still running at full-tilt, destroying themselves.

He laughs wetly, pulling Joshua close, rocking his hips where Joshua is still inside him, softer now, but hardening again, with Sanae kissing his neck, caressing his back.

“Wow, we _really_ suck at this. Did we always suck this bad?” he finally says with another laugh, and he doesn't even know what he means anymore, sex, life, communication, _each other_. Joshua chuckles with him, resignation and fondness and everything they are to each other wrapped up in it.

“Excuse me, I'm not the one killing the mood here,” Joshua says haughtily, but with a new lightness, nearly no threat at all in his voice, just smug superiority, but then, that's Joshua.

“Maybe, but you certainly aren't _helping_ anything either.” Sanae replies, pointedly shifting his hips, rubbing against Joshua's stomach, nearly all the way soft now.

“Everyone's a critic,” he says with a little sniff, but he curls a hand around Sanae's dick and starts stroking - the first direct touch so far. Sanae lets his head drop forward, mouthing at Joshua's collarbone, tracing patterns into Joshua's back.

Joshua's hands are soft, but they know him now, using just the right pressure and speed to get him hard again, hips rocking and it's been too much, too long, too _fraught_ he just needs to come and not even Joshua's derisive “Wings? Really, Sanae?” can kill the mood now.

“Shut- _hnng-_ up, and fuck me,” he pants out.

“So demanding, Sanae. I don't know if I like that.” Joshua clicks his tongue, pulls out and rearranges them, so he's the one leaning back against the headboard, eyes twinkling madly up at Sanae, pulling him down into a bruising kiss, nipping at his lips, grabbing his ass to pull him back onto his dick “How about you don't make me do all the work, mhm?”

“Since when-” Sanae gets out, fucking himself now, tights working, holding onto Joshua's shoulders “-Do you do _any_ work?” It earns him a slap to his ass and he can't stop the moan, can't stop the way he's moving faster, harder, trying to find the perfect angle.

“Delegation is the mark of a truly successful man,” he breathes out against Sanae's lips, panting against his mouth, moving perfectly in counterpoint, and there, _there_ he's found the right angle-

He can't keep up the banter anymore, all he can do is just chase after that bright point, hands bruising on Joshua's skin, nothing in his head but pleasure and Joshua's moans in his ears, his hands on his ass, kneading, encouraging him on.

His climax hits him and he's surrounded by Joshua's smell and voice and he finally allows himself to open up to his _presence_ , Joshua's music _flaring,_ enveloping him until it's the only thing he can hear, perfectly beautiful and bright.

He comes aware to Joshua moving over him, fucking him through it and he's over-sensitive, every thrust now a slight burst of pain, he feels raw, split open, but he just clutches Joshua to him tighter, mentally stroking over his music until he loses his rhythm and comes, nearly silent if Sanae couldn't hear his soul, couldn't see the bright bursts of pure energy exploding around them.

He holds Joshua through the shivers, entranced again, _always_ by how bright he is, how _beautiful._ He knows this moment won't last long - Joshua is going to recover his equilibrium, but for now he's going to do what he came here for and enjoy this moment.

“It's rude to stare, my dear,” Joshua says sardonically, which tells Sanae that time's up, that now they're back to normal, that it's time to put his game face on, but he honestly doesn't _want_ to yet. Instead he holds Joshua tighter, to keep him from moving away. He needs a bit more time to gather his composure, to be ok with losing this.

Joshua submits after a token struggle, collapsing fully onto Sanae. He doesn't even comment when he starts to pet his soft hair, just hums contentedly. Sanae's limbs get heavier, soothed by the repetitive motion, by the loose feeling in his body, by the way Joshua is like a living blanket.

“I wish we could just stay here,” he says half-asleep.

“Weren't you _just_ complaining about my work ethic?” Joshua snorts into his shoulder, sudden tension returning to him. Sanae gropes for the blanket and pulls it over them one handed, Joshua grumblingly moving slightly off him, but Sanae keeps him close, hand still in his hair, moulds their bodies together.

“I just wish-” But he doesn't continue the thought. He doesn't even know anymore, all of this so complicated, he wishes for time to turn back, for things to be as simple as holding this man in his arms, simple in a way it's never been between them.

“Go to sleep, Sanae, you're speaking more nonsense than usual,”Joshua finally says imperviously, settling down, all relaxed limbs at his side, lulling him in. Sanae chuckles and does.

He doesn't know if he's dreaming, but he thinks he can feel a finger caressing his face, hear Joshua murmuring, “We've all made our choices.”

He guesses they have.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Promises" by The Preset


End file.
